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perceived and then said to be—known and—understood, as borderless. In life. Indeed Heaven must be understood as borderless if it is to have any borders at all, with its reflection holding as well: that because Heaven does undoubtedly, indubitably, have borders, it must be first sensed only dully, then, once accustomed to speculation of such kind, dimly perceived then said to be understood—by those alive, on earth still, with no opportunity to truly know All—it must be understood or at least said To be understood by the living as limitless, illimitable, encompassing All, absolute, totally without end. (After all it’s only because the possible not to say probable human span is not eternity that humans such as I once was ever valued our lives.)
    But let us drop our other weapons and ask: then where, exactly, are these borders? the endlands of Heaven? what do these boundaries consist of? when were they mapped out, demarcated, drawn in the sand? and who guards them who guards the guards and all of what’s required to pass? questions the—an—answer to which might be this: that Heaven is wherever both bodily and of-the-mind the people of any given Heaven might dwell. And how is the population decided? How is a particular demographic arrived at? Outside this encampment, In the beyond, there Heaven does not exist. Through time, through dimensions and their lands, a Heaven’s size, its volume, a Heaven’s space, its mass and its density, its purchase and purview is that of its inhabitants, its incarnates or more faithfully to all its incarnators if you will say It along with me. Wheresoever they might roam and wander, so roams and wanders Heaven. How and what they think and know (what they think they know) , so is the sum thought and knowledge of Heaven. Why they, so why Heaven. Who they, Heaven. As, Heaven.

Indeed the walls of Heaven, which are walls , quite physically, actually, appreciably, walls, move with the people, up and rearrange themselves, reposition, set incursions, Interfada hazarded against and within the Infidelis as We the people as the Americans say set themselves toward realization, toward truest experience of Heaven, and so wall in and wall out that that is made false, rendered untrue, anew each edging of the golden plate—or dish—serving up no sustenance at all. Insubstantial. In fact under this quite contested, controversial, interpretation, the vast golden plate is not necessarily a dish of gold or a plate (which would explain say some newly arrived proponents of this interpretation why it serves up strictly nothing, or nothingness), rather it is an always moving, always wandering, always movable, always wanderable, hole in the wall that is the sky, a necessary hole allowing no escape into the light and warmth that both says and means death from this Heaven this hole in the wall of vaulted sky guards more securely than any quote truer unquote wall in its stead, any repair, any vaulting sky in its place, could ever hope to.
    Because Allah says through me Who can sense walls in such darkness? That such a hole is necessary, a prerequisite, to our knowledge of the wall and as importantly of what it walls in and out. Up and down. I think of David sleeping, a wall suspended horizontally just a breath, newborn, above his sleeping form. And nearer, so near that when he awakes, when he opens his eyes, their lids become stuck in a crack, become wedged, in a crack badly mortared, mortally, between two immense, possibly loosening, stones. The wall halves his Hollywood room. No one lives above. It would be disrespectful to place feet upon his wall—a floor without anything atop, not even a rug, a shelf without a book, merely a rung left ladderless—one night, I know, the earth will quake and he’ll breathe this wall in. Deepening sleep. Try to say a throat of breathed stone.

Alef
     
    On Rosh Hashanah, which
    means the head
    of the year in that language the
    new year in Heaven, which
    does not know from